The Question
by myBlueprints
Summary: Ichabod and Abbie struggle with their feelings now that Katrina is back (with Headless). A few one shots, sort of related and building up to something.
1. Chapter 1

**So I've been waiting to read fics before the premiere, but no one seems to be writing. This is just a spur of the moment thing, I didn't think it through, but made it up as I wrote, so...prepare for that. Also, I need fics to READ people.**

He's found a place for acquiring clothes, new clothes to be exact, but he still keeps his shirt. Patched over seven times, and close to losing colour for all the times he's hung it out in the sun to dry, he keeps it still. The coat is something else entirely, but the shirt, he doesn't really need anymore. He should've thrown it out eons ago, as she'd suggested. But he didn't.

And thank someone for that.

Had he thrown it out, Abbie wouldn't be wearing it right this minute. And his eyes would still be glued to the TV screen.

'Do I look weird?' she asks, hands on her hips. She's tied her hair above her head, and she smells lovely.

He gets an odd sensation seeing her in his shirt. It's the oddest sensation actually, seeing Abbie dressed in something of his. It's odder still that he never allowed Katrina to wear his things, times were just so different back then.

'Not at all,' he answers, trying very hard to sound not pleased at the sight of her .

'I feel weird,' Abbie confesses as she starts to pull on hem of the shirt. Her eyes raise to meet his stare, 'I feel really weird.' He doesn't get why she does, because she doesn't look weird at all, if anything, she looks fitting, as though she was meant to wear the shirt. He likes that.

'Weird isn't the word I would use,' he tells her.

'What would you use?'

Perfect. That's the word he would use, but he can't tell her that. 'Smaller,' he tells her.

'Gee thanks, I feel so much better hearing that.'

'Why do you feel weird wearing my shirt?' the answer especially intrigues him, he has to know it. Abbie looks away from him, then at the television. She shrugs.

'Surely there must be a reason,' he insists.

'I actually just wanted to take a bath and go to bed...but now I want to stay here, and watch TV with you. I guess that's plenty weird for me, because I don't even like that stupid thing you're watching...and I'm wearing your shirt.'

She's lost him, does she feel weird because of the shirt or are her feelings the source of the weirdness? It's always the same with them, it begins with something simple, and they move onto heavier, more painful territory. He wishes the cycle would end.

'You don't look weird, so don't feel that way.' He offers a genuine smile, which she returns, only shyly.

'I like it though...' her eyes turn away from him again, 'I like wearing your shirt. It smells like you.'

She knows his smell how? No matter, he's overjoyed that she likes being clothed in his smell, it says something, something he already knows. He can't resist taking her hand and pulling her towards him. There's an armrest between them, but she willingly goes around it to stand before him, her hand still in his.

'You can keep it,' Ichabod says to her, not sure how to proceed from there. She's right in front of him, if he pulls her even a little, she'll tumble onto him.

'I think I will,' she smiles, 'you don't wear it anymore anyway.'

For once in his life, he's very thankful that a demon crossed paths with them earlier that evening. He's glad that they were spewed in dark ooze, and had to return to the cabin because it was the closest.

'Sit beside me Abbie,' he requests, patting the space next to him with his free hand. She complies, not letting go of his hand.

'This should feel weird,' she says as she takes a seat, and then looks at his face, 'It doesn't.' She's right about that, he doesn't feel in the least bit strange for being with her this way. They've never done this, of all the secret moments they've shared, this is a notch higher for them. Physically and emotionally.

'I feel the same.'

Without warning, Abbie shifts as close as possible to him, and snuggles into him, her head resting on his chest. Lucky for him, that means he can inhale the smell that is her, his hand grips hers tighter.

'There are times,' he begins to say, 'when I don't think of rescuing Katrina. Do you think I'm a selfishly heartless bastard?' Abbie lifts her head up, her lovely eyes staring into his.

'I'm half dressed, cuddled against you. Do you really think I'm the best person to ask that?' There's a longing in her eyes that he cannot ignore, she just like him, has the burden of her feelings to bear. All they will ever get are moments such as this, indulging in each other for a limited period. He can see that she longs for the day when they won't have to be just this.

'I needed to know,' he replies softly, once again fighting the urge to plant his lips on hers. Abbie returns to her head to its original position.

'If I can't hear your heart beat, I'm not close enough,' she mumbles.

'You're always close enough,' he says, his other hand starting to stroke her hair. He wonders if the day will ever come when they can have each other, not only in wishes.

'If I asked you not to rescue Katrina, would you hate me?' her voice is a whisper, as though she's afraid he'll hear her.

'You wouldn't,' he replies, a hint of sadness deep in his throat. She wouldn't ask that of him, but if she did, he would consider it.

'If I asked you to kiss me, would you?' if at all possible, her voice is more of a whisper than before. His hand stills on her head.

He swallows hard, 'Would you?' Because he would if she asked, he's dying to that much.

'I want to,' Abbie confesses. Her other hand, she uses to search blindly for his face. Ichabod brings it to his cheek, keeping his atop hers.

'Don't,' comes from his mouth, 'don't ask me to. I fear we would never return from it.' They can always return from their stolen intimate moments, but if they kiss, they would never get back to land.

'Okay,' she says, 'I won't.' He squeezes the hand he's been holding all the while, 'Thank you.'

'Let me sleep here with you,' she begs. His eyes close as though that will make her request go away. He can't though, he can't allow her to sleep on the couch with him. But she will fall asleep soon, he can then carry her to bed.

'All right,' he lies. It's all he can give her for now, or perhaps for always. This might never change.


	2. Chapter 2

He locks the door behind him. Discoveries and disappointments have worn him out terribly.

'It seems,' the way his voice is breaking makes her break inside, 'that everyone I know has either lied to me or kept something from me.' He means other people too, but he's referring specifically to Katrina.

All she can do is exhale heavily, taking a seat on the bed. It was better when they drove in silence, when he was consumed in the discoveries of today. Words fail her, she too can't believe how all the people who apparently loved him kept him in the dark about so many things, even after his resurrection. Words fail her, no comforting words, no words of support, no anything.

'I keep thinking over and over...I wonder...' he can't complete his sentences, and she guesses that's how things are in his head, incomplete, not making sense. She wants to do something for him, help him stop feeling the pain of betrayal, but she doesn't know what. So she watches him, flexing his hands the way he does when he's anxious. Maybe she should've gotten them separate rooms, then she wouldn't be watching him suffer this way, in turn making her suffer. She exhales heavily again.

Hearing her heavy sigh, he turns his attention to her, his face softens as though he's noticing her for the first time, 'Forgive me,' he takes a few steps away from the door, 'I am too consumed in my bother, that I forgot about you. It's been a difficult day for both of us.'

Difficult would be one way of putting it. The truth is, she doesn't want to get into it. She waves his apology away with her hand.

'You are tired,' he observes in a cool voice, his lids drooping just enough to be sympathetically loving. She hates that look. And she's not physically tired, she's just reflecting him.

'I'm fine,' she dismisses him. She wonders if he knows just how much she is constantly plagued by the need to protect him. From anything, even Katrina.

Ichabod chuckles (not in amusement), taking a few more steps forward, 'You are the only one who's never lied to me...and just the same, you cannot deceive me. I know you far too well.'

'Fine,' she sighs yet again, 'I'm not fine. Can you let it go? We need to rest.' Abbie gets up from the bed with the intention of going into the bathroom to prepare for bed, but he looks at her in a way that makes her rethink her words. It's a look of concern, and wonder at the same time. She hates that look too. She hates all the looks that convey his feelings for her, because they remind her of all that they can't be.

'I cannot rest knowing you're unhappy,' he tells her. Abbie refuses to look at him now, she's looking anywhere but him.

And she cannot rest if he doesn't rest, she always needs him to take the first step, then she follows. That's how it works with them, because he's the one who has extensive knowledge on many things, he's the one who's married.

'Crane,' she forces her eyes to meet his, 'it's late.' It's her final word.

All too suddenly, he's directly in front of her. Her breath catches in her throat.

'Abbie,' he says, 'I cannot let it go. There is something on your mind.' He's never been wrong about her, she realises.

'What is it?' he presses her.

'I'm just tired Crane, I'm tired of all the lies, the last minute revelations...I know Katrina's your wife, but...'

At the mention of his wife's name, his face hardens, 'She's kept so much from me.'

'And I can't stand how much that affects you.' Because your feelings affect me, she doesn't add. Ichabod stills, then takes a step away from her, 'It shouldn't bother you, it's my problem.' He doesn't mean that in a bad way, she knows, but she also knows that he knows it's not true.

'It does,' she says too softly, she's not even sure he hears her. Apparently he does, because he's close to her again, searching her face.

'I would do anything for you,' Abbie says. She didn't mean to say that, but he's looking at her like that and the word tumbled out.'

His hand reaches around her neck, 'As would I,' he breathes.

Once again, they've crossed lines. Disappointment has turned into pain, and pain into this. This happens way too often, the cycle has to be broken. The problem is, she doesn't want it to be broken.

'Then let me go,' she breathes back. She's not talking about his hand around her neck. Her statement only causes him to lean into her, like a child wanting protection.

'Ask me anything but that.' It's sheer torment she hears in his voice, a hard potato develops in her throat for it.

'Let me go,' she repeats, her voice very wobbly. It takes all she has not to wind her arms around him. He buries her face in her neck.

'Allow me to cherish you. Please.' Like this, for this moment, until the world is real again.

She never thought it possible for her to be incredibly attached to someone without being sexually intimate with them, but here she is, clinging to man she cannot have.

'Take off my clothes,' she whispers. Even if she wasn't concentrating, she would still feel how he froze.

'Undress me Crane,' she whispers again. He pulls back from her, and she takes one step back, the back of her legs making contact with the edge of the bed.

'I...cannot,' he replies hoarsely, 'we cannot.'

She only stares at him for a while, and then, 'Do you trust me?'

'It's myself I don't trust. I have self control, but seeing you in the nude requires me to be in restraints.' There's an honesty to his words that melts her.

'Do you trust me?' she asks again.

'With my all,' he answers without missing a beat. Abbie holds out a hand for him, he takes it cautiously. She pulls him close, leading his hand to the hem of her top. Automatically, his other hand joins its brother.

'You have to trust me, okay?'

'I do.'

He does it excruciatingly slowly, removing each item from her body with slightly trembling hands, until all that remains are her panties. He casts his face to the floor, unwilling to be pulled into temptation.

'Hey,' she feathers under his chin, 'it's okay.' Her voice is just as shaky as her whole body is, she's terrified that they'll cross big borders, even though she's asked him to trust her.

'Abbie,' he keeps his face facing downwards, 'we cannot.'

'We won't,' she assures him, 'I just want you to see me, all of me, as I am, no secrets, no hidden things. Just me. I want you to know that no matter how much everything else sucks around you...'

'You're real,' he completes her sentence by bringing his head up.

'I'm real, and I would never,' her hand leaves its place under his chin, reaching up to stroke his cheek once, 'hide anything from you.' She sees his sad smile, understanding that he's swelling up inside, the same is happening to her.

'May I hold you as we sleep?'

Abbie smiles weakly, she's really tired after all, she needs sleep. Her head inclines in a nod. She doesn't let it show how much she wants it to be for real this time, that he can hold her tonight and not awaken the next morning to the torture of breaking away from their fantasy. She smiles one more time instead, allowing him to pull her around the bed for sleep. This may be all the chance they will ever get, she pretends that doesn't bother her.


	3. Chapter 3

**So I'm not proud of my previous chapter, it was hasty and after I wrote it (because I literally make it up as I go-including the first one and this one), I realised that I left out a few important details. Naturally, I couldn't let that slide, so here's a continuation of the previous chapter. I know I can't satisfy all of the followers of this story, but I just get out what's in my head, anyone is welcome to make suggestions. I'm just glad that at least I can make 1 person interested enough to keep reading until now. Thank you, faithful individual ****.**

'Crane,' she shakes him lightly. It's a wonder he's slept through her shower and the light noise she made going around the room. However, she can't blame him, not considering the events of yesterday. The poor man must only want to sleep until a better time in his life, a time when nothing hurts, and he can have all that he desires.

Several times during the night, she woke up, not because she couldn't find sleep (because her eyes were heavy with sleep each time), she woke up just to make sure that he was still holding her. There aren't enough adjectives to describe the serene elation she felt when his arms were around her back, and her face pressed into the fragrance of his shirt. He held her so dearly that she imagined only babies ever experience that kind of feeling, the feeling of total protection and care in the arms of their mothers. She treasures every second she was in his embrace, especially because even in sleep he wouldn't let her go.

But then the sunlight seeped through the thin curtains into the motel room, and she couldn't remain with him that way. The morning broke, and reality hit her. Their time was over, they had it, they spent it how they chose, but the world had shifted into position again.

'Crane,' she tries again, this time setting the mug of coffee on the little table next to the bed, 'Crane you have to wake up.' He starts stirring, slowly moving his head from the pillow and opening his eyes.

'Morning,' she offers him an apologetic smile.

Still very high from sleep, he frowns lightly, 'Mohnee,' he mutters.

'We have to go,' she tells him, straightening up.

'What time is it?' he rubs both his eyes and lifts his head to look around the room.

'Eleven.' He looks at her before he sits up in the bed.

'I brought you coffee. We can get something to eat later.' Abbie gets the mug from the table and hands it into his outstretched hand.

'Thank you.'

He takes a sip from the mug, licking his lip afterwards, 'Good coffee.'

'I made it, of course it's good.'

'Abbie listen...' he captures the mug in both his hands, as though he will get strength from it, 'I know we don't do this-'

'No,' she interrupts him quickly. That is not their thing, they don't talk about things that happen between, she's always felt that it would be painful torture to relive stolen moments in the night.

'I need to tell you something,' he says, his tone pleading.

'There's no point,' she sighs staring hard at him, 'There's just no point Crane, it's not good for either of us.'

'Please,' he says softly. She doesn't want to, they don't need to talk about it. He should understand that.

'Why?' she wants to know. For what seems like forever, he only looks at her, his face calm yet pleading. Against her will, Abbie folds one leg on the bed and sits on it, Ichabod shifts a little to accommodate her.

'Why?' she repeats.

'You were so beautiful before me,' he answers, 'I never said it.' He didn't have to, his trembling hands said it all. Abbie shuts her eyes to block out the image that has suddenly entered her mind. It doesn't help, all it does is replay him reaching a hand out to her and pulling it back midway. She can clearly see the way he laced their fingers between them as lay down to sleep, she can feel the agony in his blood for having her so close yet unavailable. It's all very raw to her. She opens her eyes to find him watching her carefully.

'What do you want from me Crane?' she prays the answer to that question is not the one she knows it is.

'I think you know,' he says. He's trying his best to sound cool, unaffected, but she can tell the falter in his voice, she sees how his eyelids have drooped a fraction.

'You have to say it,' her own voice isn't so firm either. Damn it, he's not supposed to be doing this to her, not when they are this close to getting Katrina back.

'I want you.'

The words hang in the air, sustained only by their silence. He wants her, not just her, all of her, the person she was last night, the person she is today. He wants all of her. Tears well in her eyes, she only has to blink and they will fall. 'And I need you,' she breaks the heavy silence.

'I'm here.'

If only it was about sex, if only what she feels for him was sexual desire, it would be easier. She would surrender to him without reservation, giving in to forbidden pleasure. It's not about sex. It's about them.

'You will never be here,' she tells him, 'You'll always be there, and Katrina in the middle.' She's longing deeply to move into him, to feel his warmth around her. She doesn't move though.

'Be with me Abbie.' It's more of a declaration than anything. Her tears start spilling out, it's all she can do. why would he require something so deep from her, knowing full well that she would never recover from? How would she survive when Katrina was the one he would be sleeping with, giving Katrina what he couldn't give her?

'Be with me,' he repeats, 'I want you to be with me.' Abbie is fully shaking now, her whole body rising and falling at the flow of her tears. He sets the mug on the table, and immediately draws her into him. His arms encase her protectively and possessively.

'Don't,' she sniffs, 'you can't ask me that. Please don't ask me that.'

'I will,' replies resolutely, 'everyday, every week, I will ask you, because I want all of you Abbie. Nothing will change that.'

He's not challenging her, nor is he deliberately torturing her, he's just being honest, because apparently, he's lived far too long in fantasies, he wants reality.

'Katrina,' is all she can manage to say, nothing else.

'I want you,' he puts emphasis on the 'you'.

'And I need you,' she sobs. Nothing will change that.

It's an hour later (he's taken a shower and she's waiting for him in the car) when she's cried all she's had to, and he's pulling the car door shut, that she says, 'Maybe in the next life.' She's brought their fantasy to an end for now. He smiles weakly.

**I guess it's pretty clear that they won't right?**

**Almost always, I wonder if people get what I'm writing, it seems so confusing and mashed. I hope you got it a little. And excuse my writing style, I try to be as me as possible, not pretending to be some super awesome writer. Thank you for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

He's not lost count of all the close calls they've had. More specifically, he's not lost count of all the times he's come near to losing her. The Headless Horseman (he's thinking of him as Abraham because the latest stunt feels like a personal attack) went too far this time, far too far. He never wants to go through that again. Ever.

It's been over three hours since then and they've successfully defeated him once again (and have finally rescued Katrina in the process), but Ichabod can't get over the attack. It was as though Abraham knew exactly that drugging and riding away with Abbie would harm him more than anything would.

'Are you still thinking about the Horseman?' her voice cuts through his thoughts. It's amazing that she appears to be over the whole incident, she's showing no signs of fear as he is feeling.

He turns around, facing away from the window to her at the table. Just then he notices that there's a whole distance between them. He's not comfortable with it at all.

His smile is only half real, 'Can you tell?'

'Not really,' she moves her head from side to side, 'I just figured something major had to be going on inside your head.'

'He worries me,' Ichabod lets out. What he doesn't say is just how terrified he is of going through the ordeal again.

'You shouldn't let him get to you,' is her advice.

From the calm on her face, he could acquire courage and optimism, but then she smiles gently and he remembers how close to death she was. Literally.

'What?' a frown develops on her face, 'Why are you looking at me like that?'

He's looking at her that way, because he came close to losing her, no human being should be allowed to go through that in their entire life.

'Do you remember the Freemasons?' he starts walking to the table where she is.

'What about them?' a hand snakes around her neck, rubbing it softly. She's probably rubbing away the fatigue of the day. It's nearly sunset, they should both be at their respective homes (he particularly with Katrina), but long ago, they learned to return to the Archives to digest the days' events. Katrina would've been there with them too had Jenny not insisted on taking Katrina home to rest. At the time, he didn't think of going with her.

'I was just recalling how frantic you were once you discovered I was willing to die.' He doesn't often think of that day. He's never asked her how she felt that day either.

'Oh,' her whole posture drops, 'that.'

'I suppose it was different then...but did you feel...' he sighs heavily, searching for the right word in his head. Shattered is the word that comes to him, though he doubts it will define what he felt earlier.

'It wasn't different,' she protests softly, 'I didn't want you to die.' The difference he means is that at the time they weren't what they are now.

'I meant-'

Abbie smiles again, her eyes sparkling, 'I know what you meant. But it still wasn't different. It would've killed me if you died.' Hearing the words relieves a little of his tension. He pulls out his chair, then takes a seat opposite her, at their table. Abbie is all smiles again, as though she knows something he doesn't.

'Care to share?'

'I'm just happy,' she closes the book in front of her.

Perhaps something has happened that he's not aware of, he frowns, 'He was going to take you to Moloch. I would expect that you feel some sort of fear. Yet you are so collected.'

'I got away from Moloch before,' she shrugs.

'How can you be so calm?' he honestly needs to know. For his answer, Abbie places her hands on the table, making them travel as far to him as they can.

'Give me your hands.'

Uncertainly, he places his large hands into her tiny ones. Effortlessly, she intertwines their fingers. He still doesn't know what she means. He looks at her, waiting. Her smile fades.

'I'm happy. It's actually painful how happy I am.'

'What are you talking about?' he can't resist asking her, the suspense is taking over him.

'When we got Katrina today,' she begins, 'I thought that was it, I thought I would never have a moment with you again. But here we are.' Abruptly, he untangles his fingers from her, pushes his chair and walks around the table to stand behind Abbie. He's almost positive he hears her breath catching in her throat. He bends over, his arms stretching around her to take her hands in hers. All over again, they combine their fingers.

He lowers his lips to her ear, 'Can I request something of you?' he doesn't miss the shudder that runs through her, it's charming really.

'What?' she asks, her voice dangerously low.

'Never frighten me like that again, I cannot go through it a second time.' Even as he speaks the words, he knows it's not in her control whether the Horseman (or anyone else) kidnaps her, but he wants to hear her make the promise.

'I won't,' she breathes, turning her head so as to face him. All the air suddenly leaves the entire room, because he can't breathe anymore, he's not breathing. The turning of her head brought her lips a millimetre from the corner of his lips. All he knows fades away, everything he was going to say escapes him, because all he can see are her lips a nanosecond away from his own. At this point, absolutely nothing can stop him from tasting her. Not a thing. He leans forward only for her to incline her head backwards, creating the little distance he meant to fill between their lips. He's a little surprised by her action, not completely.

'What will happen to us now?' she asks. She has deliberately pulled back from the kiss he was going to give her, something he isn't sure how to take. He doesn't give her an answer, because he doesn't have the answer himself.

'Damn it Crane,' she says through gritted teeth, 'I had a plan, I was going to tell you that we had to stop. I was going to hold your hands for the last time and make peace with my fate. But you just had to ruin it for me.' She wiggles about in the chair, trying to stand up, but Ichabod has her trapped in a hug with both their arms.

'How do you stop loving someone you love, how can I stop aching for you when I am?' For her love, for her touch, for her presence every moment. Can she not comprehend that she's engraved inside his skin?

Their positioning is awkward, she's trying as best as she can to keep her head away from his while looking at him, and he's having a hard time keeping his head angled the way it is without dropping it on her shoulder.

'You don't love me,' Abbie objects as she frees her fingers from his. He allows her to, because he knows she won't run away.

'You know I do,' he says to her. They are coming apart, unjoining themselves from each other, but he still keeps his place behind her, only straightening to his full height.

'You've never told me that.' It sounds like a complain. And as she gets up from the chair and turns to face him, he sees that she's blaming him. Only half aware that he is, he pulls the chair out from between them, and steps to her.

'If I said it,' he plants his hands on either side of her on the table, trapping her between them, 'would it make a difference?'

For a moment she only searches his face, her breathing coming out less controlled and more like that of a tired person, 'I don't know.'

'Abigail,' his eyes close, 'this can't be it for us.'

With all the strength she has, she replies, 'It should be.'

He briefly tries to imagine a life without her softness, a life null of bittersweet moments such as these. He tries, but he cannot imagine it.

He forces his eyes to open, 'Tell me why it must be so.'

'Look at us...we never smile when we're like this, it's just agony for both of us. Tell me that's healthy and I will believe you,' she pauses only to hoist herself up on the table, 'Tell me anything and I will believe you right now.'

He considers her words. It's true, they never smile or laugh, it's always something else, never complete happiness. As he ponders her words, Abbie circles her arms around his neck, pulling him closer by doing so.

'This should be the end for us,' she says softly near his ear, 'Katrina's here now.'

'Are you certain of this?' he whispers back. Somehow tears formed in his eyes, and now he's shedding them, straight onto her shoulder.

'No,' is her quiet reply, 'but I have to believe it.'

'I don't want to believe it.'

'You have to Crane...you have to believe it.'

Never, he thinks, he will never believe such a thing for them. It's that he's not willing to let her go.

**Two or more chapters to go I think...I don't promise a happy ending though.**


	5. Chapter 5

It's been both a relief and a shame that since Katrina returned five days ago, there hasn't been unusual activity. She chooses to focus on the relieving part rather than the other, for reasons that will eat her from the inside if she dares to think about.

It's for the best, she repeatedly tells herself each time she's driving and her passenger seat is unoccupied, or when she arrives at the precinct and the Archives is not the first place she goes into. She has to tell herself the lie, to keep her soul from longing. She also has to ignore his texts. And his calls. And avoid sleeping too much, because the more she sleeps, the more his stupid face appears in her dreams; asking her to marry him, telling her that she's his everything. Now she hates dreams.

'Abbie?' her sister calls her from the bedroom door, 'Are you coming? We're going to be late.' She fixes Jenny a long stare. She doesn't want to go, why does Katrina have to be so nice and invite them over for dinner?

'And seriously Abbie, would it kill you to look casual? Wear a bit of make-up? You don't have to look like you're working all the time.' Abbie ignores that completely, she doesn't want to go, but she has to, it doesn't mean she has to conform to party dictates as well. At least not for this particular one.

'Start the car,' Abbie tells her sister, 'I'm coming.'

Much of what they spoke about over dinner, she didn't hear, her brain was too busy trying to block all the unwelcome images of Crane and his wife in the cabin. She's just glad it's time to go.

'Jenny,' she calls for her sister in the kitchen, 'we have to go.'

Apparently, Jenny has taken really well to Katrina, but then again, Jenny's not swooning over Katrina's husband. The two can easily have a conversation, as they've done all through dinner, barely recognising that Abbie remained silent, and Crane wore a heavy look on his face.

'Already?' it's Katrina who asks the question, looking from one sister to another.

'I have an early shift tomorrow, I wanna get some sleep,' the lie comes out naturally, as though she's been preparing it all night. She wants to separate herself far from their cosy home, their cosy life. Who knows what they've been doing in there the past four days. For the fear of tracing secret glances between him and Katrina, she's kept her eyes off Ichabod, his hands particularly, because five days ago (when she last saw him) his fingers had gripped hers tightly in their final goodbye.

'Fine,' Jenny sulks, 'let me just use the bathroom and we can go. Take my bag will you.' Gladly, Abbie bids Katrina farewell, then turns with much effort to Ichabod in the armchair across the room. For truly the first time that night, their eyes meet and time stands still. All she knows is that he's closer than he's been in five days, even two metres apart, he's very close. Her hands start to twitch.

'May I walk you to your car?' his voice brings her back to the now, 'I would like a word.' Her logic is screaming for her to say no, but her sappy heart hasn't seen him in so long.

'Okay,' she tries to shrug it off as normal. It doesn't quite work. Taking her sister's bag from one of the chairs, she starts walking to the door. He gets up and follows her.

'Thank you again Katrina,' she passes the same pleasantry again as her hands close around the doorknob. The air that hits her face once the door is open and she's stepped out of the cabin, is alleviating. Almost immediately, the relief disappears when she feels him behind her, much more when the door closes.

'You have been avoiding me,' are the words that come from his mouth, causing a terrible taste to develop in her mouth. Abbie spins around so she doesn't begin feeling all sorts of things with him behind her like that.

'We agreed,' she hisses, suddenly feeling like a scarlet woman, 'this had to stop.'

Calmer than her, he says, 'I didn't. You decided, I never accepted it.'

The light on the porch is very dim, probably meant to give a certain ambiance for looking out into the night. It's dim, but not enough to keep his face hidden from her. She wishes it were dim enough. Her feet move backwards.

'Katrina's right inside,' she argues, still creating distance between them. That's not the issue, well not entirely.

'What would you have me do?' his voice breaks.

Tell me you didn't make love to her Crane, she pleads in her head, tell me you didn't, even if you did, just say you didn't.

'Let me be,' she answers quietly, 'You need to stop. I've accepted it, you need to as well.' She can't pinpoint the exact time she became a liar, so much of her life the past year has been linked that she doesn't know what began when.

'Lies,' it's his turn to hiss (and step to her), 'Had you accepted it, you would not be afraid to stand in proximity to me. You wouldn't be wishing I would hold you in my arms and ease your aching for even a second.'

Spurred by his words, she grabs hold of his forearm and pulls him along with her out past the porch gate.

'You have no right,' she's nearly shouting, 'to make me feel guilty for doing the right thing-'

'The right thing for who? Certainly not for us, or are you really that selfish?' She hasn't let go of his arm yet, beneath her hand, she feels as though he's emitting furious heat. They've never argued before. She's wildly intoxicated with rage for his being snatched away from him, and he's absolutely livid that she's pretending they don't exist anymore. None of their passions matches the other.

'For you and her,' her head tips to the side of the door to indicate Katrina. Ichabod lets out a frustrated groan, pulling his arm away from her to bring his hands over her face.

'So that what,' he doesn't remove his hands from his face, 'I can tell her that I love her, hold her in my arms and make love to her the way I want to do to you? Would you rather I spend my life broken and miserable without you? Because I won't Abigail Mills, I will not.' His words cut deep, so deeply that she begins shaking, really shaking. He's like a drug, his effect is like that of a drug. Abbie flings all that aside, composing herself into the brave emotionless person she isn't right now.

'You have to Ichabod Crane. This isn't what was made for us. Accept it.' She's said the words, now she feels lifeless, worn out. His hands drop from his face, 'But I love you Abbie.'

If I said it, would it make a difference, he'd asked her five days ago. She only knows the answer now. It makes all the difference in the world, yet it makes no difference at all. He loves her, she's feeling ready to burst for it, yet it doesn't change their fate.

'I have to go home,' she sighs, all her strength gone.

'Abbie...'

Unable to resist, she touches his arm briefly, 'Go inside Crane, go be with your wife.' She expects that he would object, try to convince her otherwise. He doesn't, instead he pries her hand off him and turns to walk back inside. It's the worst pain she's ever known, knowing truly that she's succeeded in driving him away, seeing his back turned and walking away from her. She never imagined it would really come to this.

She's still staring at the door minutes after he's gone inside, and Jenny is exiting. Jenny! She completely forgot about her. What kept her inside so long, Abbie wonders, because no way is a bathroom visit that long. Or did she just feel time had prolonged when she was with Crane? She lies to herself that it doesn't matter, nothing matters, because she's killed herself anyway. Nothing can matter if she's not alive.

The end.

**I'm totally joking, I have a bit of the last chapter in my head...expect it by Sunday I think. I have a thing starting on Friday all through Saturday, so I probably won't get the time to write. Hang in there please.**

**Oh and guys, thank you for your wonderful words, I never expect to receive reviews to be honest. Thank you really.**


	6. Chapter 6

**This is the final chapter, and oddly, my least favourite. I honestly didn't feel anything writing this, so maybe that's reflection on the chapter itself. I did warn you.**

She storms out of her room wanting to know why Jenny is making banging sounds at a time that's supposed to be for sleeping. It's hard enough trying to sleep, but to sleep with noise coming from somewhere? The whole house is dark, no hint of light anywhere. She fumbles around the house, trying to find the source of the noise. It doesn't stop, neither does she find from where it's coming as she walks further away from their rooms.

'Jenny?' she calls out cautiously. It may have been quiet on the demon front for days, but that doesn't mean all is well again. She reprimands herself for not bringing her gun, but she took it for granted that Jenny was the source of the noise.

'Jenny?' she calls again, searching for a switch anywhere against the wall. Her fingers find one, she flicks it on. Light floods into the hallway, defeating the darkness and boosting her bravery. Still, the banging continues, making her walk all the way into her sitting room. It's the door, she realises. Someone is banging on the door from the outside.

Intruders, she thinks quickly, it could be any intruder on the other side of the door, she has to act quickly. Very quickly, she goes to turn the light on. Looking around the room, she finds nothing to aid her as a weapon. But as she searches, she notes how consistent the banging is, like someone knocking, only louder. Briefly, she debates with herself whether to open the door or let the person barge in.

'Who is it?' she asks in what she hopes is her best firm voice. The only answer she gets is more knocking, very gentle now.

Stepping closer to the door, she repeats her question, 'Who is it?' Her ear presses to the door as though that will help her see who's on the other side.

'Abbie.'

Her heart stops.

'Crane?' she whispers back.

How is he here in the middle of the night, hours after she left the cabin with Jenny. And why does she want to cry all of a sudden. She knows why, it's for the very same reason she couldn't sleep since the dinner. He loves her, and he wants her. And she loves and wants him just as badly as her does her.

'Abbie please let me in,' he pleads. She can hear the sound of his heart breaking in his words. Without wasting a second, she rushes to the key holder, pulls off the right key and heads back to the door. Ignoring her shaking hands, she struggles a little to fit the key into the hole, but manages after a few attempts. She swings the door back.

He stands before her, looking very distraught.

Of all things, she asks, 'What are you doing here?'

The man she's used to seeing, the brave determined man that's always with her, is not the man standing in front of her. The man in front of her is defeated, using the last bullet he has to fight, 'I love you Abbie, I truly love you. Believe that I do.' Abbie can only pull the door back wider, it's an invitation, one he accepts instantly. She closes it slowly, internally preparing for whatever comes next. She's seen the desperation in his eyes, and she knows her own torment over him. Her back presses against the door.

'I do believe you,' she says honestly, 'I couldn't believe anything more in my life.' It feels so good to say that, the weight that was between her lungs disappears. She closes her eyes to embrace the freedom.

'You do?'

It's the choking sound he makes that has her eyes opening. He's crying, he's actually shedding tears. His face is a contorted pallid mess. Her only wish is to wipe away those tears with her kisses.

'I do,' she nods, 'but what are you doing here?'

Seeing him cry is something close to magic, because she can't express what his tears are doing to her. It's magical. They are the antidote for a heart unwilling to yield.

'I couldn't sleep, I needed to see your face, to tell you that I love you. I came to beg you not to forget about us.' All this he says through tears, not even wiping them from his face. Abbie does it for him, stepping closer, she uses her hands to clear away his tears, not saying a word.

'Do not let me go,' he says after some time, leaning his forehead on hers.

There's another reason she's been reluctant to give in to them. She needs to tell him.

'You know when you want something so bad,' she stills her hands, only now framing his face, 'and you get it? After sometime, it just becomes like everything else you have, it's no longer special. What if that happens to us Crane, what if I wake up one day and you don't love me anymore?' That part makes it harder for her to surrender to the relationship. She believes that the forbiddeness of their relationship keeps them interested. But it hurts so much to not have him.

'That will never happen,' he pronounces with a force, pressing his forehead further into her. Fresh tears spring from his eyes, but Abbie ignores them this time.

'What if it does?' in her head she's convinced that it will happen, something that good can't possibly last forever.

Slowly, Ichabod eases her hands from his face, also detaching their foreheads. He takes a step back from her.

'I have faith that it won't happen. Trust me Abbie.'

She doesn't need convincing after those words. Only one other thing remains.

'What about Katrina?'

Unsure how it happened, she discovers that she's crying herself when she reaches a hand to her cheek.

'What about her?' he asks. It sounds as though she's not a factor in his book.

'Did you...did you..?' she can't bring herself to say the words. It's stupid that it bothers her, Katrina is his wife and if he wants to have intercourse with her, he can. He met Katrina first, but the thought that he did gashes her heart. She can't imagine his hands on anyone but her, feeling at places that would easily drive her crazy.

'No,' he replies, looking her right in the eyes, 'I never thought to. All my thoughts, you consumed.'

Maybe that's why someone came up with the idea of confession, it unburdens the soul. For five days she's been burdened with thoughts of the two of them, but now she knows the truth. She's very glad.

'I love you.' Confession is a wonderful thing, she concludes. Because his face completely changes. Tears long forgotten, his countenance shines.

'Oh Abbie,' he breathes sensually. Not giving her time to register what's happening, he gathers her into his arms, consequently lifting her off her feet. Her legs automatically wrap around him. 'Tell me again.'

Abbie takes a second to digest the adjustment, her arms going around him. 'I love you,' she says again.

'Your voice is exquisite when you say those words, I could listen to it all night and never grow tired. Speak those words one more time Abbie, I need to hear them.'

'I. Love. You,' she makes sure to mention each word on its own, and even for her, the power of the words start to work. Bubbling from the core of her being is the stubborn desire of her body, the pure and perfect need to be loved intensely as though she was dying. Her breathing changes suddenly.

'I need you,' she says close to his ear. More than anything she wants to lose herself in him, for him to possess her fiercely until all she can do is cry. She wants him that much.

Ichabod pulls his head back from the embrace to gaze at her face. His stare is so intense, her cheeks grow hot.

'I've been waiting so long...to hear you...oh Abbie you will be the death of me.' He lowers his lips to hers, but stops. She can hear the change in his breathing. He's excited and terrified all at once.

'Kiss me Crane,' she whispers, her breath hitting on his lips.

'I fear the reality of this is too overwhelming,' he confesses with a shy smile. 'I've wanted this for so long...'

His shy fear charms Abbie all the more, she smiles quietly. Ichabod doesn't miss it, 'And here you said we never smile.'

'What happens now?'

'I love you as I was meant to,' he tells her with all the assurance in the world.

'I'm pretty sure that involves a lot of kissing,' she teases, though not entirely, she's dying to have his lips together with hers. Apparently that makes him overcome his little, for he brings his lips closer, then inhales-'

'Abbie?'

They pull back from the near kiss, and Abbie is highly impatient now. She wants this man as in yesterday. Her eyes find her sister standing a few metres away from them.

'What's going on? What's he doing here?'

Either Jenny can't see how they are, or she's choosing to not acknowledge it, whatever it is, Abbie resents her sister for interrupting.

Ichabod clears his throat, 'Jenny. Good evening.'

Jenny folds her arms, 'It's two in the morning, what are you doing here?'

'Jenny!' Abbie really can't be patient much longer.

'Oh!' Jenny smiles knowingly, 'It's okay, I get it. I mean, Katrina is technically dead so I understand why he's rushing over here to hook up with you.'

'Go back to bed Jenny,' she says firmly, and then turns Ichabod's head to her, 'Oh my gosh if you don't kiss me no-' the rest of her words are cut off by his possession of her lips. She melts into the kiss, enjoying very much how his beard grazes across her skin. She pulls back to ask him something.

'If I asked you to stay, would you?'

He's almost panting, 'You don't need to.' Clearly, she doesn't need to.

'I want to.'

'...'

'Stay with me,' she uses her sultry voice.

'Always,' he replies before he restarts their kiss.

Always, she loves the sound of that.

**There we are. Is that a happy ending? I'm pretty sure I've made mistakes somewhere, so forgive me for those. Thank you for following. And please anyone who knows anyone who writes fics, tell them I need new fics please or updates at least.**


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